


Cold/Mess

by Evanna_Adams



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bollywood, Bollywood AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanna_Adams/pseuds/Evanna_Adams
Summary: The prompt: Tony was going to a retreat in India to try to relax after everything with CACW, but now its like he keeps seeing Steve everywhere! That hunky bearded guy, that flannel wearing single dad, that, uh, weirdly muscle-y belly dancer?? (Steve is totally not stalking Tony he just happens to have missions close to Tony by chance... And if he takes the moment to keep an eye on Tony, keep him safe, what's the harm in that?)I'm from India so if it got out of my hands, is it really my fault?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2019





	Cold/Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XxWanderlustxX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWanderlustxX/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [XxWanderlustxX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWanderlustxX/pseuds/XxWanderlustxX) in the [stony_stocking_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2019) collection. 



Tony looked up at the sky, walking away from the flight. He couldn’t believe that the airport was so small that he could walk directly from the flight to the gates. Shrugging his bag more comfortably onto his shoulder, he followed a group of turbaned men talking amongst themselves. They were conversing in Punjabi and laughing – they reminded him of Thor and easier times. Sliding his sunglasses up his nose, he ducked his head and started walking faster. Before he could say, “I’m in India”, he had arrived at the luggage strip – it really was a cosy airport. He had seen large crowded airports and large abandoned ones; he had hung around private helipads and airports. Hell, he had fought at an airport. But he had never seen one this compact and lacking the hustle bustle of normal airports.

Feeling eyes boring into him, he pushed down his sunglasses a bit and found himself at the end of a two year old’s glare. She had her chest puffed out, sitting on top of a giant bag. He smiled slightly at her, making her huff and glare harder. He got distracted by his bag on the strip. When he looked back, her mother was rolling her away in her high heeled boots with some difficulty. Tony waved slightly at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Chuckling, he followed them out to the tarmac. A man stood near the road holding up a sign with his fake name: “Potts”. It was fitting, he thought.

He raised his arm slightly at the man to flag him down.

“Mr Potts?” The man asked leaning closer to Tony with a grin.

“The one and only,” Tony responded, taking his sunglasses off and looking around the place.

This was the second airport he was leaving behind in less than two months. At least it wasn’t in pieces this time. Pepper – even though they were separated – had convinced him to take a break from everything. It also gave her a chance to return to New York without guilt and work as a CEO from there rather than from Miami. He knew that he was fraying at the edges and that she could see it happen, but it had still taken him a month to actually listen. In her attempt to get him as far as possible from the Stark Industries, she had arranged for a safehouse all the way in India.

He had been to India before for big wig weddings. The last time that he was here he had attended Sanjay Hinduja’s wedding in Mumbai. But he had decided against staying in Mumbai. Or even Delhi. He remembered when he had been eleven and his father had taken him around the world. They had been going around looking for good places to set up their factories. Punjab and Haryana had been a few of the states they had wanted to look at – so they stayed in Punjab and Haryana’s capital, Chandigarh. He had been fascinated by the city. It was gorgeous and very well organised. There wasn’t a lot to do there and it looked as far from America as possible, but Tony had loved it.

So, when he had a chance to return, he decided to return to the city. Besides, who would imagine that Tony was living in Chandigarh. He needed time off. The country was a mess, Stark Industries was losing share because of the spat with the rest of the Avengers, Rhodey was off to his home to meet his mom, Pepper and he were split up, Steve was missing, and he was tired. He was so incredibly exhausted. It had been a long few months – hell, it had been a few long years. Maybe, life. He was being dramatic; he simply needed time off.

Some cooling down always helped, but he wasn’t sure how much “cooling down” he’d actually achieve in 40 degree Celsius. He loved the city but hated the weather. He hoped to vanish into the mountains for at least a week.

“Mr Potts, let me lead you to your humble abode, sir,” the man pulled his attention away from his own thoughts.

Tony wiped a hand over his sweaty brow and nodded. “Tell me it will have an AC.”

“Sir, we were asked to make sure that you have the best of all the amenities.”

God bless, Pepper. “Thank you. What should I call you?”

“Myself Sukhbir Singh, Sir.”

“What do you do, Sukhbir?”

“I drive this taxi from 6AM to 10AM, Sir. Then, I go to work at a local college.”

“College?”

“An engineering college, Sir. I’m working there as a lab technician.”

“You know,” Tony continued as he let the man put his bag in the back of the car. “I’m an engineer myself.”

“You look very intelligent, Sir.” Sukhbir grinned companionably, shutting the bonnet closed and held the door open for Tony.

Tony smiled, charmed and settled inside the car. “Could you take me there one of these days?”

Sukhbir grinned over at him, starting the car after putting his seatbelt on. “Isn’t this a vacation, Sir?”

“Call me Tony,” he corrected. “Work never stops.”

“That is true, Sir Tony.”

“Just Tony, please.”

“Tony,” he responded as though testing the word in his mouth. “What does your name mean?”

Tony startled. He had never been asked that before. At every point in his life, he had been asked to justify all his decisions but never asked something do mundane but meaningful.

“Why do you ask?”

“Names are powerful, Sir. I mean – Tony. My parents named me Sukhbir. I’m a fighter for happiness.” He raised a fist with a grin. His happiness was contagious. “I have to be that for my family, Tony.”

Tony smiled at him, considering his words. “My name is actually Anthony. You know, Antony from _The Tragedy of Julius Caesar_? Or _Antony and Cleopatra_?”

Sukhbir looked back at him blankly through the rear view mirror.

“Uh, anyway. I was actually named after my great grandfather on my mother’s side. I think the name has been passed down from generations.” He shrugged.

“Ah, I understand. It’s a gift from your ancestors.”

Tony let the words settle within his conscience. He had never thought about that and never really that hard about his name anyway. “I think so. Thank you, Sukhbir.”

Sukhbir grinned, slowing the car down in a narrow street surrounded by houses. Tony looked out the window at the building they were stopping in front of. It was a small house. Smaller than anything that Tony had ever lived in. Maybe this was Pepper’s revenge. He stepped out of the cab. He looked at façade of the house. It was a street with houses together. All of them had three floors except the one right beside the one that they had stopped in front of. They had a particular look about them that made him feel like they were more homely than anything he had ever lived in before.

Tony startled when Sukhbir placed his bags beside him. “Could you-“

“Welcome!” A voice boomed from inside.

For a second, Tony’s heart clenched because he thought it was Thor, but that was crazy. Why would anyone he knew be there? He shook his head and smiled at the man who was opening the gate to the home. It was an old-fashioned giant iron gate. Tony realised all homes had similar accessories. He was seeing now that they weren’t all that different from each other.

“I’m Dr Alok Sharma,” the man announced. He smiled genially at Tony, leaning in to pick up one of the suitcases.

Tony considered him for a second, tilting his head to a side and mouth slightly hanging open. A paunch, balding white hair, thick glasses and crocodile leather shoes. His clothes were nice enough but not a single colour in his mustard shirt, brown sweater or brown pants went with the maroon shade of the leather. Tony was no fashion snob but he was curious. Taking a hold of his other suitcase, he rolled it inside the gate. Sukhbir was long gone. Instead there was a stray dog lying in the middle of road, soaking up the sun.

“Come in,” Dr Sharma ushered him in, toeing off the shoes and getting into a pair of open toed sandals.

Tony began to take off his shoes and Dr Sharma offered him a new pair of sandals.

“We got these for you when we heard you had taken up our offer on Airbnb.” He put emphasis on Airbnb proudly. “Our eldest son, Rahul, lives in the US and he told us about this.”

Tony could just not. He realised he hadn’t even told them his name. “I’m Tony, by the way. Potts.”

“Ah, I know,” the man replied, eyes twinkling. “I read the fine print.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. He was lead inside the house and into a common area with couches, chairs, and a coffee table to accent them at the middle. The plan of the house was open but warm. Stairs separated the room from the dining area and the kitchen. It was tastefully but minimally decorated. Dr Sharma set his suitcases to a side and gestured towards the couches. Tony gingerly took a seat.

“Sunita?” Dr Sharma called, settling opposite him. “So, Mr Potts? What brings you here?”

“Oh, just general travel. I needed a break from work and my CEO suggested I come here. She’s been around the block. Says I drive her up the wall.”

“Ah, we’ve not hosted her, I believe. Is she your wife?” he questioned abruptly.

“Oh, no. God, no,” he responded, surprised by the question. “I’m not married.”

“Oh, okay.” Dr Sharma nodded, as though ingesting the information uncomfortably.

Mrs Sharma ran in with a tray overflowing with food and three bone china cups. She thrust the tray towards Tony. He accepted one steaming cup of tea and nodded at her. She stayed, smiling at him genially. He accepted a cashew from the tray, uncertainly. She grinned and floated away to offer the food to her husband.

“You need to eat more. Put some meat on your bones,” Mrs Sharma called out, taking a seat near him. She reached out to squeeze his bicep. “Don’t worry, I’ll feed you.”

He jumped slightly at the touch and laughed nervously. She was smiling warmly at him now and he couldn’t help but smile back. Somehow, she reminded him of his housekeeper at MIT. Mrs White had been more matronly than his own mother but not as much as Ana. Maybe it was his old age or it was the fact that he had been isolated from the only equal companions in a while, but he felt his heart twinge at the fact that a stranger cared about his health.

“Are you okay?” Dr Sharma asked, leaning forward. His dark eyes considered Tony carefully.

“Of course,” Tony answered, finishing the tea quickly and getting up. “Could you show me to my room? I’m tired.”

“Oh, the poor dear,” Mrs Sharma announced, bustling around. “Come on!” She tugged at Tony’s arm towards the stairs.

Tony had no choice but to follow her. He tried to pause to pick up his bags, but she was having none of it. He followed her upstairs as she hung to his sleeve. The stairs ended up at a study with huge French windows opening up at the front of the house to the balcony. At the platform, the stairwell was backed up by hip height bookcases. Mrs Sharma didn’t stop there, instead she led him inside through the middle one of the three doors.

“This is the master bedroom,” she pronounced, finally letting his sleeve go.

He felt inexplicably untethered, swivelling on his feet to look at the room. A king size bed dominated the middle of the room with the dressing area on the right and the cupboards on the left. The TV faced the bed at the perfect distance. He loved it. It didn’t hold a candle to the houses and rooms he had occupied before this but it was everything he needed. Pressing his fist to his mouth, he thought of all the things that Pepper could predict about him.

“Come on,” Mrs Sharma was practically vibrating standing at the entrance of the room.

She led him to the other two rooms. One of them was an open space with couches and a TV and the other was a smaller bedroom.

“We live downstairs,” she told him after the tour was over. “You can ask us for anything that you need. The kitchen is downstairs and everything is open to you: the dishwasher, the washing machine. Whatever you need, you can use. The maid comes every morning between 9 and 10 to clean the rooms, except for Sundays. She will not bother you if you request that. We expect a minimum amount of decorum and discipline. No noise past 10 in the night. And no lady friends.” She gave him a knowing look.

“Or gentlemen friends,” Dr Sharma added from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll let you rest now.” Mrs Sharma squeezed his arm and then she was gone.

Tony looked over the edge of the bookcase but he couldn’t see them anymore. Shaking away the creeping feeling of loneliness, he walked over to the balcony to look out at the street. Houses surrounded the narrow street completely. Cars were parked throughout the street. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he rocked on the balls of his feet when something caught his eye. There was a man walking through the street in flannel. He had a thick blonde beard and his head was covered with a turban. He was holding the hand of a little girl, talking at him. He laughed, throwing his head back. Tony and the stranger’s eyes met through the glass.

It was a few moments before the man and the little girl had walked out of from his view. And another few moments to remind himself that not every white man he saw was Steve.


End file.
